


Wassailing to the Wand-Wood Trees

by Aneiria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anniversary, Bowtruckle (Harry Potter), Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Found Family, Married Dramione, Married Life, Married Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Solstice, The Whole Gang's Here - Freeform, Wandlore (Harry Potter), Wassail, Winter Solstice, Winter traditions, Wizarding Traditions, dhr advent, old Crookshanks, seasonal fluff, wand wood trees, wassailing, wassailing at the Weasleys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27724031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aneiria/pseuds/Aneiria
Summary: The fifth anniversary is the wood anniversary, and after five wonderful years of marriage, Hermione and Draco celebrate their anniversary in the usual way: a solstice wassail with their closest friends and family.This year is particularly special, however, and with the help of a few old friends this anniversary and Christmas will be one neither of them will ever forget.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 23
Kudos: 213
Collections: D/Hr Advent 2020





	Wassailing to the Wand-Wood Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, thank you to everyone who voted for me to be part of Advent! It means so much to me and I've had the best year in fandom writing fics and getting to know so many other Dramione fans - I hope you all have a merry and blessed holiday season 💖
> 
> This fic is [now available as an audiobook](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RiIBaCA6A5c&ab_channel=ETLEchoAudiobooks) read and recorded by [ETL Echo Audiobooks](https://etl-echo-audiobooks.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Special thanks of course to the wonderful [Grace Lou Freebush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grace_lou_freebush/pseuds/grace_lou_freebush), not only for betaing this fic but your support, time, encouragement and friendship over this year! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy 💖

There was an old tradition, among the wizards of the West Country, that took place on every winter solstice. They would come together - Weasleys, Lovegoods, Diggorys, Fawcetts, Abbots, even Malfoys depending on the decade - and go wassailing through the dark of the longest night. 

The families taking part may have changed over the years, but the hallmarks of the night had not. There would be mulled wine and conjured fire and drums and shouting and singing. 

Draco Malfoy had taken part in the wassail for the past seven years, with the exception of one, five years ago. The year he’d started dating Hermione Granger, to be exact, and the name _Malfoy_ had been reluctantly accepted back into the fold. He enjoyed it, the whole symbolism of the solstice: the darkest day and the longest night, just waiting for the light to come, for renewal and rebirth and new beginnings. It had been a fitting day for his and Hermione’s wedding, and on that one year, they’d missed the wassailing.

Draco reached for his wife’s hand as she walked out of their bedroom, her glorious curls tumbling loosely over her shoulders, her brown eyes sparkling. He knew she was wearing Muggle clothes beneath, but she’d pulled on the fur-lined, dark blue outer robes he’d bought her for Christmas two years back over them. She looked stunning.

‘Happy anniversary, sweetheart,’ Draco said as Hermione took his hand, and he pulled her towards him for a gentle kiss. 

‘Happy anniversary, Draco,’ she smiled as they pulled apart, and she reached for her vinewood wand, linking her arm with Draco’s. ‘Ready?’ she asked, and he nodded, a little nervously. 

Hermione’s wand wasn’t in the best shape these days, but what choice did he have? He’d just have to trust her not to Splinch them on the way to Ottery St Catchpole.

The air was icy and crisp when they landed just outside the Burrow. The bonfire was already lit, and the house was burning with lights. A peal of laughter - Ginny’s, by the sound of it - echoed from the garden. Draco breathed a sigh of relief at their safe arrival.

The first person they met as they approached the roaring fire was someone Draco had never seen out wassailing before. Although he had invited the wizened old man who approached them, he wasn’t shocked that Hermione was surprised.

‘Mr Ollivander!’ she exclaimed, turning to face him. 

The old wand maker wasn’t seen much anymore, not since the end of the war. He’d kept his shop on Diagon Alley, but it was mainly staffed by Luna Lovegood. The two had remained close after their imprisonment together, and Luna had proved an intuitive and subtle wand maker, even if some of her combinations were a little on the… _eccentric_ side. Nonetheless, once Draco had explained what his intentions were, Ollivander was only too happy to come along to the annual wassail and help. 

The wand maker smiled now at Hermione, letting himself be enveloped in a gentle hug. ‘Lovely to see you, Miss Granger,’ he said, his voice spidery and frail. He seemed to catch himself, glancing over to Draco with a flicker of his pale eyes. ‘Mrs Malfoy, I suppose you are now.’

‘That’s right,’ Hermione said with a beaming smile in Draco’s direction. ‘Five years today, actually.’

‘Happy anniversary, my dear,’ Ollivander said warmly. ‘Five years is the wood anniversary, did you know? How is your wand?’ 

Hermione’s smile faltered, and slowly she pulled her vinewood and dragon heartstring wand from its holster. Reverently, she handed it over to its maker. 

Ollivander took it from her gently, as if accepting a baby to hold. His expression flickered into a frown as he held it, and Hermione gave Draco a sad glance. 

Her wand had been struggling for some time now. It had put up a valiant effort, lasting many years after the war ended, but it seemed what it had gone through had been too much in the end. Draco had watched throughout the past few months as Hermione struggled to cast even the simplest of spells with the wand, as it coughed and sputtered faint sparks and tried its best. 

Ollivander carefully handed it back over with a considered hum. ‘It wasn’t only people who suffered in the war, Mrs Malfoy,’ he said knowingly, and Hermione nodded sadly as she placed her wand back in its holster.

‘And yours, Mr Malfoy?’ Ollivander said now, turning to Draco. 

Draco started in surprise before pulling his wand free as well. He didn’t know why he still carried it, really. He passed the hawthorn and unicorn hair wand over to Ollivander, who gave Draco a sharp look as soon as his fingers brushed the wood. Draco gave the tiniest shake of his head with a pleading glance at Hermione, and Ollivander pursed his lips but, thankfully, didn’t say anything.

Because the truth was, Draco’s faithful, beleaguered wand hadn’t worked for several months now. He could command just enough wandless magic to cope, able to cast simple charms like _Lumos_ or _Accio_ without it, and using the Floo instead of Apparating had become second nature. And luckily, his work as a Potioneer required little wandwork. 

Draco probably shouldn’t have left out these details when he’d approached Ollivander with his request, but at least the old wand maker knew now. He was spared any further enquiry by a dreamy voice greeting them.

‘Hullo, Hermione, Draco.’ Luna wandered over to them. She was dressed extravagantly, in a long, green, velvet cape with an enormous, purple-fur collar, and had an entire holly wreath somehow woven into her blonde hair. ‘Garrick, how lovely to see you out and about. The bowtruckles will be most pleased.’

‘Bowtruckles?’ Hermione asked in surprise, absent-mindedly reaching for Draco’s hand as she spoke. 

Draco took it in his own, her warmth matching his. It amazed him, how after half a decade of being married and two years of dating, her touch still sent a thrill through him. He leaned across to press a gentle kiss on her temple.

‘We’re holding a rather special wassail this year, Granger,’ he murmured, and she looked up at him expectantly, her beautiful brown eyes shining. He kissed her, slow and sweet, before pulling away so their lips still brushed. ‘We’re blessing the wand-wood trees.’ 

Hermione gave him that look he loved, the one with narrowed eyes and a little smirk as if she saw straight into his mind. ‘Wand-wood trees?’ she repeated suspiciously, but fortunately Luna came to Draco’s rescue.

‘Yes, we wassail every ten years to appease the bowtruckles. You don’t want to make a wand from a tree with angry bowtruckles,’ she added dreamily, holding her arm out for Ollivander to take hold of. 

The fire crackled merrily behind them, and Molly Weasley bustled over with a tray full of mulled wine, the scent of spices and citrus heady in the chilly air. ‘Drink up, everyone!’ Molly said cheerfully, smiling as they all reached for a glass. ‘Hermione,’ Molly greeted her, her warm eyes crinkling. ‘And Draco, dear. So good to see you both. Happy anniversary!’

Draco looped his arm around Hermione’s waist, smiling at Molly. He still felt so grateful to Molly Weasley. She’d welcomed him into her extended family with open arms, the first one to accept him fully when he and Hermione had started dating. She’d even walked him down the aisle at their wedding, while Arthur had done the same for Hermione. In the absence of both sets of their own parents - Draco’s to Azkaban and grief, Hermione’s lost to the _Obliviation_ she’d cast to save their life - the Weasleys had taken on the role for both of them.

‘Thank you, Molly,’ Draco said as she tucked the now-empty tray under her arm and pulled them both into a bear hug, kissing first Hermione and then Draco on the cheek.

‘We’ve got a present for you, back at the house,’ Molly said with a broad smile. ‘You can pick it up after we wassail, all right, dears?’ With another squeeze of their arms Molly turned to greet Luna and Ollivander. 

All their friends were there, as they had been for every previous anniversary. Harry and Ginny, Hannah and Neville, Theo and Blaise, Ron and Pansy. Old school rivalries long forgotten in their new future of hope and reconciliation. 

Hugs and gifts were exchanged, and kisses and laughter, and they drank mulled wine by the crackling, warming bonfire. Luna wandered around everyone, handing out small packets of fairy eggs and woodlice, and when they were ready, the wassailing began. 

George led the parade, walking side by side with little Teddy Lupin. They both beat loudly on drums hanging around their necks, whooping joyously as they did, and Ron and Ginny started singing an old, wizarding solstice song. As more people joined in, voices reaching high into the night, the dark sky filled with songs and rhythm, the spiced scent of mead, the crackling of summoned fires dancing around them as they walked along the woodland path and sang to the trees.

Wassailing was a simple concept: to make enough noise to scare off evil spirits on the darkest night of the year and to give offerings to thank the trees for their bounty and fruit throughout the year. And on this special wassail, to appease the bowtruckles and thank the wand-wood trees for their sacrifice so wixen could harness magic through the wands they made. 

Draco released Hermione’s hand and instead settled his arm around her waist, pulling her closer into his body. Hermione shivered a little against him, despite the thick robes she wore, and Draco waved his hand, casting a small warming charm to keep her from getting chilly. Every solstice for the past seven years, he’d sent a silent thanks to the gods above for whichever one had decided Draco Malfoy deserved happiness.

‘Here’s the first wand-wood tree!’ Luna called out, and the group came to a stop at an old, twisted oak.

As Pansy and Ron moved forward to make the first offering, George and Teddy still banging away on their drums, Hermione and Draco stood off to one side, watching quietly. Harry and Ginny stepped forward next, and Draco felt Hermione tap distractedly on his chest. 

‘Draco, look.’ Hermione’s voice was quiet, awed almost, and Draco turned his head to see what she’d spotted. 

She disentangled herself from his hold, stepping slowly away from him and towards a different tree. She reached out her hand, laying her palm on the rough bark with a smile.

It was a gnarled yew tree, hunched and crouching like a petrified acromantula. Draco knew what Hermione was feeling, though. He felt it too; it was as if a warmth emanated from the tree, a faint glow of magic. He walked up behind Hermione, gently placing his hand next to hers. The bark was warm below his palm.

‘It’s amazing,’ he murmured in astonishment, and Hermione looked up at him with bright eyes. 

‘It feels familiar…’ she replied, her face settling into that little frown she got when she was figuring something out. ‘Like being a child again…’

‘Like getting your first wand?’ The frail, spidery voice came from behind them, and Hermione and Draco turned to see Ollivander watching them knowingly.

‘Exactly!’ Hermione replied now, triumphant to have figured out the puzzle. A moment later her face fell and Draco stroked a gentle hand on her back, knowing she was thinking of her own fragile wand. 

Luna joined them, and gave them both a dreamy smile.

‘This is a wand-wood tree,’ she confirmed with a nod to the boughs. ‘Why don’t you two make the offering to the bowtruckles?’ 

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled the packet of fairy eggs and woodlice free. The fairy eggs glittered faintly, in iridescent blues and pinks, while the woodlice curled themselves into tight, little balls. He offered them first to Hermione, and she picked a small handful up. He transferred the rest from the packet into his palm, and together they stepped forward, into the gnarled embrace of the tree. 

‘Up there, look,’ Hermione whispered, and Draco followed her finger to peer into the depths of the branches. Sure enough, three or four pairs of dark, reflective eyes peered back. 

Together, he and Hermione placed their offerings on a flat fork of a branch, before taking a step back and watching as first one, then two, then five bowtruckles appeared and started plucking the fairy eggs and woodlice from the wood and stuffing them into tiny, invisible mouths. 

‘Perfect,’ Luna breathed happily from behind them. 

A warm feeling spread through Draco, through his veins, and he and Hermione quietly stepped away. Ollivander moved towards Luna, and Draco took Hermione’s hand again. 

‘Come on, sweetheart,’ he murmured. ‘Let’s leave them to their wand-wood.’

* * *

It was well after midnight when Draco and Hermione Apparated back home, Hermione sending a silent thanks to Circe that they arrived in one piece. Draco took her robe from her, ever the gentleman even after half a decade of marriage. 

Hermione watched as he hung both of their robes up on the rack, admiring his tall, broad form in his dark Muggle jeans and forest green, cashmere jumper. It had taken a while, but finally two years ago, Draco had given in to her and tried Muggle clothes. To her smug satisfaction, now, more often than not, he’d wear them around the house. 

‘Shall I make us a cup of tea?’ Hermione offered. Her nose was still a little chilly from the icy air, despite the warming charm Draco had kept over her all night. ‘Or I could open a bottle of wine?’ she added hopefully. ‘One of those nice wedding bottles from the Malfoy estate, maybe?’ 

Draco grinned as he turned around, and Hermione felt her ears go pink. He always made fun of her, his wife who prided herself on not being a snob, for having - as he called it - exquisite taste in wine. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, slow and sweet, as she curled her fingers in the soft wool of his jumper, feeling a hint of his hard body beneath. He still played Quidditch with Harry, Ron and Ginny a few times a week, and the practice meant he had a delectable body. He pulled away from her mouth, making her whine sulkily, and rubbed his thumb over her pouting lower lip with a smile. 

‘We could just skip the nightcap and head straight to bed?’ he murmured instead, running his hands down over the curves of her waist and her hips before cradling her ass and pulling her close to him. ‘I have to give you at least one present today, seeing as you have to wait a few days for your real one.’

 _Well_. That did sound better than even the best wine the Malfoy estate produced. 

‘Take me to bed then, Mr Malfoy,’ she said in her best flirtatious voice. Judging by the way Draco’s eyes darkened and his grip on her ass tightened, she’d done a good job.

‘As you wish, Mrs Malfoy,’ he growled, and before she knew it, he’d lifted her over his shoulder, carrying away down the corridor.

‘Draco!’ she squealed with laughter as he carried her away like a caveman, not even releasing her as he made his way up the vast staircase.

Malfoy Manor had lain dormant for several years after Narcissa Malfoy passed, before Draco and Hermione decided to move in. She did it for him, in the end, knowing how important his ancestral home, this last link to his family, was to him. 

No matter how painful the memories were for both of them. 

But they persevered through the first upsetting months, and slowly built new memories, happy memories, which were woven into the bricks of the manor itself. It had been their home together for three years now, and Hermione couldn’t imagine living anywhere different. 

The door to their room was ajar, and Draco kicked it open and carried Hermione all the way to their grand four poster bed, hung with curtains of dark midnight blue dusted with tiny golden stars. No green and no red, they’d agreed while sharing a wry smile. 

Draco gently placed her on the mattress and lit the lamps with a wave of his hand, standing back and taking a moment to look down at her in the golden firelight, laid out for him, as his lips curved into a smile. 

Hermione raised her arms above her head, knowing that the way her back arched made her breasts push out. Draco’s eyes flickered down to her chest and darkened, and she knew she’d had the effect she’d hoped for. 

Draco covered her body with his, pinning her arms in place and falling on her neck. ‘You little tease,’ he growled, and Hermione rocked her hips up into his, feeling the familiar, hard length of him already pressed against her thigh. 

‘You love it,’ she replied playfully, and Draco grinned at her and kissed her again, his mouth hot against hers. She sighed into his mouth, surrendering herself to his touch. 

They’d never gotten bored of each other since getting married. Instead, like dancers or duellists, they’d grown stronger, learned about each other. How they moved together, how they flowed together. 

Draco could make her come embarrassingly fast, if he wanted to: a skill he’d put to good use in a number of… _interesting_ places, not least Hermione’s office at the Ministry, the bathrooms of the Leaky Cauldron, and the pantry at Grimmauld Place. 

He could also hold her balancing on the edge, practically sobbing for relief, only letting her come with a burst of stars when he deemed her ready. 

As Draco kissed his way down her body, unzipping her dress and helping her shimmy out of it so she was lying back in only her lacy underwear, she wondered which end of the scale she would be blessed with tonight. 

Draco pulled off his jumper and slowly, as she watched, unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled one sleeve up to his elbow. His muscled forearms, delicate wrists, long fingers, with the silver Malfoy signet ring on one, were all some of Hermione’s favourite parts of her husband. He angled his arm as he started on the other side, and Hermione could see the Dark Mark against his pale skin, a wizarding tattoo of daffodils and roses elegantly curling around the faded snake and skull.

Hermione reached out and took the wrist of his right hand, pulling his forearm towards her so she could drop a kiss on the tattooed skin. He looked at her with warmth in his silver eyes and brought her hand to his own lips so he could kiss her palm.

‘I love you,’ he murmured, making Hermione’s heart swell.

‘And I love you,’ she replied, pulling him close for a kiss. 

They broke apart, and he finished rolling his other sleeve, keeping his molten eyes on Hermione all the time. With an imperious arch of his eyebrow, he told her to hold her hands above her head, casting a wandless _Incarcerous_ to tie them to the headboard. Hermione squirmed, knowing full well what this meant. Draco smirked at her and traced a finger over her nipple, leaning down to lick it once it hardened under his touch.

‘I want to take my time with you tonight,’ he promised, his voice a growl. The unspoken threat was on the air between them: _and you don’t get to come until I want you to_. 

Hermione groaned, half with anticipation and half with frustration, making Draco chuckle. His hands were on her breasts, his thumbs stroking both nipples and sending thrills through her body as she felt herself grow wetter and her cunt clenched around nothing. He leaned down to kiss her stomach, then the top of her pubic bone, before releasing her breasts and trailing his fingers along her entrance instead. 

‘So ready for me, sweetheart,’ he murmured now, and she knew she was already dripping for him.

He slid one of his fingers into her, his other hand resting on her thigh with just enough pressure to keep her open for him. His eyes raked along her body, from where his finger disappeared into her up to her breasts, her nipples hard and her chest heaving as she struggled to control her breathing, to her face, which she knew was already flushed, her hair loose and wild against the bedsheets, to her wrists, bound and helpless above her. He gave her a slow, wicked smile as he slid another finger into her, making her back arch. He worked her slowly, lazily almost, until eventually he added a third finger, the stretch both feeling like heaven and also not quite enough. 

Hermione wanted more: his tongue on her clit or his dick buried deep inside her. Instead, he thrust his fingers with agonising slowness, watching her the whole time, his eyes dark and his lips parted. 

‘Draco…’ she pleaded, even as she knew it would do her no good. His eyes flashed, and he pulled his fingers free from her cunt. She pulled against the _Incarcerous_ , desperate to touch him, as Draco sucked on all three fingers, his eyes fluttering shut as he tasted her. 

‘You taste so fucking good,’ he said as he released his fingers with a small _pop_. ‘I want more.’

Draco sat up, leaning back on his haunches as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it free from his body. His broad chest, alabaster skin and criss-crossing scars were all as beautiful now as they had been when she’d first seen them all those years ago. He gave her a smirk as he undid his belt. 

‘Enjoying the view, Granger?’ he said, pulling his belt free. He moved to the side of the bed, quickly undressing until he was as naked as she was. Hermione let her eyes roam down and gaze at his cock, long and hard and thick and _glorious_. She wanted to run her tongue along it, to taste him and tease him, but the fire in his eyes told her she wouldn’t have that chance tonight.

Draco released the _Incarcerous_ and flipped her onto her stomach. ‘Stay down,’ he commanded with a murmur. 

Hermione tilted her head to the side so she could watch him, her cheek pressed against the bedclothes, and nodded obediently. ‘Yes, _sir_ ,’ she said with a grin, and his eyes flashed in approval. She had a feeling she knew what was coming with Draco in this languorous mood. 

He wanted to take his time with her, to savour her and their lovemaking. And his favourite way to do that was…

She gasped as his large hands grasped her waist, yanking her hips up so she was on her knees, her ass in the air, with her chest and face staying flush with the bed. She felt Draco’s hands leave her waist, running over her hips and the curves of her ass, trusting her to stay where he had positioned her. 

It was a pleasant surprise to both of them when Hermione first discovered her submissive streak. She was so used to being in charge, to being right, to being switched on, for every minute of every day. 

The first time Draco had pinned her hands above her head and told her with a sexy growl to stay exactly where she was and let him fuck her, Hermione had gone weak inside. The next time, she’d asked him to take control, not able to stop the heat from rising in her cheeks. He hadn’t laughed at her, though. He’d just given her an understanding smile, kissed her sweetly, and did exactly what she needed to let go. 

Draco squeezed the curves of her ass, bringing her back to the present. She sighed happily, settled against the bed and felt Draco’s breath against her when he spoke. 

’That’s it, Granger, you just relax,’ he murmured, and she felt one of his fingers trail over her entrance, humming in appreciation as he dragged his fingertip through her arousal. ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ he muttered, and she felt him settle himself behind her. ‘You’re so gorgeous. I’m going to look after you, okay?’

He always did look after her.

He fell silent, and a moment later, Hermione groaned helplessly as he licked her cunt with one long, broad stroke, his tongue hard. His hands settled around the backs of her thighs, gently pulling her open so he could probe his tongue deep into her. He lapped at her cunt languorously, never rushing, focusing on his own enjoyment. When he went down on her with the intention of giving her pleasure, it was with her on her back with him between her legs or her held above him with her riding his mouth with her cunt. 

But when he did it just for himself, it was always like this, with her ass in the air so he could spread her open and practically drink from her. 

Hermione was never quite sure which way she preferred.

She turned her head now, so the bedclothes muffled her groans of desire. Draco still licked at her, making her wetter than she already was, and she was desperate to come. Her clit ached to be touched, but so far he hadn’t even brushed it by accident. 

‘Draco…’ she couldn’t help whining his name and practically felt him smirk into her.

‘Yes, darling?’ he purred innocently, his breath hot against her cunt. Hermione whimpered helplessly. Begging rarely worked when Draco was in this mood. Still, maybe it couldn’t hurt to try? She shifted her head slightly so she wasn’t buried against the bed. ‘Please?’ she whispered, and Draco laughed darkly. 

‘Oh, no, sweetheart,’ he said, squeezing her thighs. ‘Not until I’m ready for you.’ 

Hermione groaned even as another thrill of arousal chased through her veins. Draco’s mouth returned to her cunt, his tongue teasing her as he pulled apart her labia, licked in the creases, as if he had never tasted anything as good as her before. 

With each stroke of his tongue, Hermione felt herself wind tighter, until her every nerve was crying out for relief, her cunt dripping and her eyes wet with frustration. Her hands were clenched into fists, tangled in the bedsheets, and she was so adrift with pleasure she didn’t notice Draco move his mouth away from her until he replaced it with his cock, sliding deep into her with one smooth thrust. 

Hermione’s eyes flew open as he filled her, her cunt clenching around his cock.

‘Oh, gods,’ she murmured helplessly, and Draco placed one hand on her lower back as he started to fuck her, deep and gentle. 

‘You want to come, sweetheart?’ Draco bit out, his cock sliding deep into her again, his hips flush with her ass. Hermione nodded desperately, opening her eyes and peering over her shoulder to see him riding her, his chest shining with sweat, the faded Sectumsempra scars glowing in the firelight. He thrust in again, a little harder this time, rocking Hermione on her knees and causing her to scrabble against the bedcovers. ‘Tell me what you want, Hermione.’ 

_Gods_. She gasped as he drove deep into her again, her whole body aching for release. ‘Yes,’ she panted. ‘Yes, _please,_ Draco, I want to come. Please let me come.’

Draco grunted in approval. ‘Good girl, Granger,’ he whispered hoarsely, and finally - _finally_ \- he reached beneath her so his fingers brushed tantalisingly lightly over her clit. 

Hermione could barely think straight anymore, let alone form words. She was vaguely aware of panting and babbling nonsense to him, as he fucked her and played with her clit. 

‘Come for me, darling,’ he breathed, and as if his words alone were magic, she did as she was told. Her muscles gave way as her orgasm flowed through her body, trickling into every inch of her, drowning her in starlight. 

Draco’s arms banded around her hips, holding her in place as he fucked her to his own completion, coming with a groan deep inside her, his body sticky and warm against hers.

They spent a few long moments locked together, trembling, until Draco gently pulled himself free and tugged her down to the mattress with him so she faced him. He cradled her in his arms, pulled the duvet around them and extinguished the lamps with a lazy wave of his hand. 

Hermione sighed happily, warm in his arms, and pressed a sleepy kiss against his chest.

‘Happy anniversary, Draco,’ she murmured dreamily, already feeling sleep stealing her away.

She felt Draco tenderly place a kiss on her forehead before tightening his arms around her, pulling her closer into his body.

‘Happy anniversary, Granger.’ 

* * *

A few days later, on Christmas morning, Hermione and Draco woke late. They made their way downstairs well after breakfast time, still in their pyjamas, when Crookshanks’ pitiful mewling for food got too great for them to bear. He was old and doddery now, and more grizzled than ever before, but his kneazle blood kept him going strong. Draco fed the old cat as Hermione whipped up some toast and Firewhisky-laced tea, and together, the three of them went to the drawing room. 

The Christmas tree was in one corner, next to the fireplace that eventually roared to life after a few attempts by Hermione with her wand. The room smelled of fire and pine and butter from their toast, and the tree glittered in the corner beneath the tinsel and decorations and lights. A mound of presents were piled haphazardly beneath it, and Hermione sat herself down between the tree and the fire with her plate of toast and her cup of tea. 

Draco settled in the old armchair by the fireplace, facing her, and as soon as he’d balanced his plate on the arm, holding his tea in his hand, Crookshanks coiled his body and launched himself into Draco’s lap, purring contentedly as he started to knead on Draco’s leg. Draco, to his credit, endured the old cat’s ministrations with merely a grimace, and Hermione bit her lip to hide a smile.

She picked up the first present, handing it to Draco, and they started to unwrap gifts together in between taking sips of tea and bites of toast. 

‘What’s this?’ Hermione pulled Molly and Arthur’s gift free from it’s packaging, finding a small, roughly hewn wooden stand of some kind. She passed it up to Draco, who was still stuck in his armchair under Crookshanks’ stubborn weight. 

Draco turned it over in his hands, running his hands over the small, curved notches that were clearly meant to hold something in place. Draco’s lips curled into the small, knowing smile she’d come to love so much, and he waved his hand and levitated it to the fireplace where it settled, empty and waiting, in the middle of the mantelpiece.

‘I think it will become clear once you open my present,’ he said, and with another wave of his hand, he summoned a long, dark blue box from beneath the tinsel-laden tree. 

He was getting very good at wandless charms, Hermione had noticed recently, and not for the first time she wondered whether his wand even worked anymore. She knew it was time to retire both of their wands, but she hadn’t been quite ready. Draco had, thankfully, given her all the time and space she needed to say goodbye to her trusty vinewood.

‘This is really an anniversary present,’ Draco continued, as the box landed in Hermione’s hands. ‘But we needed to wait a few days for it to be finished.’

Throwing him a curious look, Hermione carefully untied the length of golden ribbon around the box, aware that Draco was watching her with an intensity he was trying to hide. 

As she worked the stiff lid off the box, she felt a strange, simmering warmth emanate from within and a certainty of what she was about to find inside.

Sure enough, when the lid was free, she found a slim length of wood nestled against the blue velvet.

‘Oh, Draco,’ she breathed in disbelief, carefully lifting the wand from its cushion. The wood warmed beneath her palm and fingers, and she felt a glow to her body as she picked it up. Holding it out, she cast her favourite charm, and a flare of bluebell flames poured effortlessly from the end of the wand, dancing around her before disappearing back into the tip. 

She looked up to find Draco watching her with the affection that had never wavered over the course of their marriage. 

’You like it?’ he asked hopefully, and Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears and a lump form in her throat. Clutching her new wand tightly, she leapt across to where Draco sat, engulfing him in a bear hug. She ignored the indignant mewl of Crookshanks, still on Draco’s lap and now squashed between them, instead capturing her husband’s lips with her own. He tasted smoky and rich from the vintage Firewhisky in the tea he’d been sipping as they opened presents. He opened his mouth to her, as willing and ardent as always, and Hermione smiled into the kiss.

‘I love it, Draco,’ she breathed as she pulled gently away. His silver eyes shone with happiness, and she bundled Crookshanks up so she could settle in Draco’s lap instead. Crookshanks gave a disgruntled chirrup before curling himself up on Hermione. ‘But how— when—?’ 

Her musings were cut short by Draco, kissing her again. ‘It’s unicorn hair and yew wood,’ he murmured when they pulled apart. Hermione reached up to play with his soft hair, a little thread of memory tugging in her mind.

‘Yew wood?’ she repeated thoughtfully, and Draco gave her his slow, sexy smile as his hands settled around her waist. 

‘That’s right. From the yew tree we wassailed to on our anniversary,’ Draco said, gently stroking Hermione’s waist. 

‘And Mr Ollivander and Luna were there with us…’ Hermione thought out loud, balancing her new wand in her hand. 

She cast another charm, and a couple of golden canaries tumbled from the tip, twittering around their heads. Crookshanks raised his grizzled face, his cloudy eyes looking up at the birds with interest. Hermione watched him fondly for a few moments before turning her gaze to Draco. He was looking at her with his gorgeous, silver eyes. ‘You planned this all along, didn’t you?’ she asked.

Draco brushed back one of her curls. ‘Of course, Granger,’ he said with a smile. ‘I wanted to get you something special. After all, you’ve given me the best five years of my life.’ 

Hermione leaned against him happily, feeling his lips press a kiss to her neck. ‘You know I feel the same,’ she murmured. ‘And the fifth anniversary is the wood anniversary,’ Hermione added as an afterthought. She thought back to the last few weeks, and her suspicion about his own wand. ‘But, what about you?’ she asked, and the golden canaries disappeared. ‘Your wand is exhausted too, isn’t it?’

Draco gave her a sad smile and nodded. ‘For a few months now. But I got a new wand as well.’ At that he raised his hand, casting a wandless _Accio_ , and a matching box flew up from under the tree and into his hand. He unboxed it, showing Hermione a wand in the same polished wood, a little longer and thicker than hers. With a wave he conjured a perfect scarlet poinsettia, levitating it over to the mantlepiece. ‘Ollivander and Luna made us a matched pair. I hope that’s okay,’ he said cautiously, as Hermione’s heart swelled with love. 

‘I think that’s perfect,’ she whispered.

The first meaningful magic they did with their new, matching yew wands was to levitate their old wands, hawthorn and vine, to settle on the stand the Weasley’s gifted them. The two old wands touched each other where they crossed, and Hermione could have sworn she felt them give a slight shudder, like a long, drawn out sigh of relief as they did. She reached down to take Draco’s hand in her own. 

They’d been through so much, enough for two lifetimes over. And not just their wands, but Draco and Hermione themselves. 

But as the winter solstice taught them, year after year as they wassailed and celebrated their marriage, there were always brighter days to look forward to. 

**Author's Note:**

> My prompts for this fest were ice-skating and trees, and I could use either of them or both of them. With an entire single half-hour ice-skating experience in my whole life and weak ankles and knees that do not suit wobbling on ice while on terrifying blades, and a lifelong love of trees and nature, the prompt choice was a no-brainer for me 😂
> 
> For anyone interested in the yew and unicorn hair choice for Hermione and Draco's wands:
> 
> Yews are incredible trees, and we have many ancient yews in the UK. I first fell in love with them when I discovered yew trees were often planted at the perimeter of churchyards to keep the witches away - to me they've always been these great, gnarled protectors of the dead. 
> 
> In the Harry Potter universe, yew wands are rare but powerful: Tom Riddle himself wielded a yew wand. But yew wands are equally as likely to be found in the hands of fierce protectors as dark wizards, and one thing that wand-makers agree on is that yew wands never pick a timid or mediocre wixen, which I thought suited both Draco and Hermione particularly well. [Click here](https://www.wizardingworld.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/wand-woods) for more information on yew wood wandlore.
> 
> For unicorn hair, most of you probably know from Draco's first wand having a unicorn core that it makes for a wand that is hard to turn to the dark arts, which I felt balanced the dark potential of yew quite nicely. I did toy with the idea of Luna making them a kneazle-hair yew wand with some of Crookshanks' fur, but maybe that's a plunny for another day!
> 
> Thank you for reading, and happy holidays to you all 💖


End file.
